Snape's Lady
by sappy3
Summary: Snape gets more and more bitter with his current life as teacher to stupid children. He is obsessed with fantasies and dreams he keeps having about a fair lady he know he will never have. This is dark and twisted. Be warned!
1. Behind the curtains

**Snape's lady**

Chapter one: Behind the curtains

For her - the fair and _debonair_, that now so lowly lies,  
>The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her eyes -<br>The life still there upon her hair - the death upon her eyes.

'Lenore' by Edgar Allan Poe (1831)

Snape looked down, scowling. He should have been more careful. If he couldn't control himself he might as well give up. Getting out of the bed he fished about in his coat-pockets finally finding the vial he was looking for and muttered "Drink this" over his shoulder to the mound stretched on the bed. He heard a rustle like a blanket snatched hurriedly up and after a few seconds the vial was gone to the sound of gurgling.

Taking the money from his pocket and placing it on the dresser he remembered the vial, a stupid Hogwarts-stamped bottle from his personal stores. Sneering at himself he turned and snatched the vial back noticing that the ugly red marks were gone from the pale white neck.

Going out he thought to himself again that he should use simpler unmarked bottles for these little away-from-school excursions but that perfect shade of Slytherin-green just couldn't be found anywhere else and he was always very careful after all not to leave them lying about.

Entering the pub in the corner with the ridiculous name "The slimy mistress" he bought a straight fire-sherry and apparated back to the Hogwarts entrance. From the din in the dining hall, meal was just starting. He made his way slowly to the head table trying to avoid the little vermin that infested the castle with his scowls.

As he was taking his seat, Dumbledore called out one of his chirpy greetings and asked where he was all afternoon.

Snape tried to recall what his excuse was supposed to be this time "I went to buy some potion supplies and stopped for a drink" he muttered guiltily, reminding himself to stop by the apothecary next time before he got back.

"Wonderful, wonderful" enthused his beaming headmaster and started on his revolting strawberry-lemon cheryngue pie. Dumbledore may be the greatest wizard since Merlin himself but his personal tastes were just childish and saccharine. Snape always believed in the secret places of his heart that this was yet another punishment fate had shoved on him for his crimes as a Death Eater. While Voldemort may have been as evil, cruel and mean as you could get he knew all about what good taste meant. Dumbledore was the complete opposite to that. Sighing, Snape straightened his school robes thinking, you just couldn't have everything in life.

Gliding back to his quarters in the dungeons he tried to forget the 'quickie' he bought today on his visit to London. He just had to take out the steam he got from seeing the Potter boy get away with yet another disdainful disregard for the rules of the school. The boy was the spitting image of his father and you could see in his doggy stares the influence of his godfather. Just seeing him, made his fingers itch for his wand to try some recreative transfiguring. After all if mad-eye Moody could make a ferret out of the Malfoy boy with hardly a scold he should get something for all the misery Potter put him through.

Taking off his robes he got to bed and tried to get some sleep. He could already feel her lurking in the dark with the soft ethereal smile that drove him mad with desire, just waiting for him to close his eyes. Snuggling under the covers he whispered to himself "My one true love" as he shut the sight of that outside world…

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><p>Author's Note - reposting an old fic<p> 


	2. Second Thoughts

**Snape's lady**

Chapter Two: Secod thoughts

'Is it the demons from without that we truly fear,

or those within?'

Unknown

In his dream, Snape was pumping vigorously into the form beneath him, trying to be done and gone already. Soft whimpers started to rise from the bed in time to his movements. His hands sprang to its neck, trying to silence that horrible sound. Didn't he tell it to keep quiet? It was his only request after all, but it was too late now.

As he felt his release approaching, he suddenly saw her standing by the window. Her. Silent tears were shining in her eyes and those delicate hands clenched into angry fists. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as he tried to find anything to say, to make things right again. She looked at him and her mouth opened for a second before she turned and glided out leaving him there alone.

He tried to get up and shout "Wait, I can explain, I didn't mean…" but his body betrayed him at that moment and he felt his juices spilling on the bed as he tried to fight free of the blasted blankets.

Getting up he tried to remember where he was. He was in his rooms of course, just dreaming one of his stupid dreams. She would never notice him or care what he did after all. He didn't even know her name, for Nero's sake. He just called her Lady-Gray in his private thoughts and that was no name. Would she even care what he did yesterday? She probably didn't even know he existed.

He got back in bed to catch some sleep, and had horrible dreams about sinking into a Flabberworm slime-pool where the worms crawled into his clothes where they were squished on him any time he tried to move. The worst part of the dream was hearing somebody laughing at him and jeering as he sank deeper and deeper into the slime-pit.

As he got up groggily from bed with the buzzing of the alarm to take a long, long shower, he tried to think why the low, mocking voice sounded so familiar. He was probably just remembering his days as a student with Sirius and Potter dogging his heals.

Feeling much refreshed, he made his way to the great hall for breakfast thinking things couldn't turn up worse than yesterday's fiasco. He hated Monday. Why on earth would anyone even consider making potions at eight in the morning? He was positive Minerva fixed it just to spite him. She chirpily denied it any time he brought it up while the headmaster laughed behind his beard. Well he would show them. Those Ravenclaw and Hufflepuf first-years would pay for this.

As he swept out of the hall his eyes lingered on the Ravenclaw table. How could they be sorted into such a house and yet be so much less? They were just ordinary ugly twerps with aspirations to become pigs, which they were, gorging themselves on the foods and planning no doubt their next shameless shag-fest in the hallways. Just like all the rest of their mates. Even their head of house was more of a Hufflepuf than a Ravenclaw.

Ravenclaw should stand for something more. It should embody a purity of the mind, freed from bodily constraints and base ambitions and emotions.

Glancing upwards at the ceiling Snape tried to discern any movements in the gray morning skies. But it was useless. He might as well get on with his life.

Going down the dungeon steps Snape was wrenched out of his reverie by the appearance of the Bloody Baron who passed rudely through him, his nonexistent lips thinned even more than usual, to a destination unknown. Oddly enough Snape was suddenly reminded of his earlier dream of sinking into the Flabberworm pool last night. Shaking his head at this incongruous combination, Snape swept into the classroom slamming the door behind him as the silence of graveyards descended on the cold and dreary classroom. Just the way he wanted it to be.


End file.
